Final Gift
by Blackjack Gabbiani
Summary: Just before he puts his plan into action, Yukio has to convince himself that he's doing the right thing


The Final Gift  
by Blackjack Gabbiani  
Just as a note...the last three story arcs of 02 take place between December 24th and December 31st, 2002. So basically, all this week.

  
  
They say that more people kill themselves this time of year than any other. It's a myth, of course, not a shred of evidence to support it. But if it were true, I could certainly see why. All the decorations, all the banners, all the forcing cheer upon the populace no matter what...it's nearly more than even the sanest person can take.

And I, being far from sane, should know.

It's strange, I should be happy. The plan I've worked so hard on for the past three and a half years is finally ready to put into play. And this day itself, a rest before we begin, is pleasant. My creations seem to have their own plans--Mummymon following Arukenimon around with a sprig of misletoe he got from who-knows-where, and she with beating him soundly every time he does. As long as they leave me alone, I pay them no mind.

Outside, the bells toll with merry cheer, but it's hollow, with no real feeling.

I feel the same way. There's nothing within me today but sorrow.

I still have it, you know, the gift you gave me our last Christmas together. You told me that purple suited me; why, I do not know. My creations tell me it makes me look intimidating, nearly the opposite of your reasoning.

They think of me as their master, someone to be revered, obeyed, even feared. They know nothing of me.

_Just a few more days_, I keep telling myself. _Everything will be resolved in just a few more days._ But even that is hollow. I cannot predict the future. I don't know that something won't go wrong. There are a million factors now that could never have been predicted, and a million more bound to reveal themselves. As it stands, the plan remains. The power from those Dark Spores should be more than enough to open the gate.

I keep thinking to myself that it's such a horrid way to do things. But then, how many times did we try? How many times were we denied our dream? And now...now you're gone. You can never live that dream, even if I do.

I sink down in my seat, feeling the heavy fabric weigh down on me. I will live our dream, Hiroki. No matter what happens, I will get to the Digital World.

_...I'm getting less human,_ I realize. Even a few months ago, the thought of harvesting energy from children would have made me ill, but now it seems a necessary evil. I know that when the time comes--in but a few days--I won't hesitate. Our dream must live on.

There's a voice inside me, not my own. Some people say that you know you're crazy when you start hearing voices, but I was crazy long before that.

You've never seen me at my worst, Hiroki. Not even when I lay sobbing in your arms, bruises up and down my back. Not even when you found me in the corner, unresponsive and cold to the touch. No, my worst is far beyond that. I have no regard for life. My creations were made to destroy, something I encourage them to do. By my command, they have cast darkness across the world of our dreams. But when I get there, I will make it better.

Unless I'm delusional. Which is also a possiblity.

It's so cold in here. I raise the high collar on the coat, and pull it tight around myself. If I think about it, it feels like you embracing me. Sounds trite, I know, but that's how my thoughts are these days, the simplest of things. I've expended so much energy on this plan, I have no more left for my own mind.

Given the state of said mind, that's probably a good thing.

Once, you were the center of my life. Now I live it to get to the Digital World. One moment there, far from the falsehoods and chiming bells of this world, will make up for all the pain we put into getting there.

I hope.

Hiroki, if you can somehow read this, I want you to know that I do it all for you. And I only hope that such a drive will somehow justify my actions.

Once I go there, I will never return here. In a few days, I will visit your resting place for the final time. I want to tell you all this in person, so to speak. Then I will leave this world, not in the way you did, but in the way we always dreamed.

Everything I've done, everything I will do...they're all for you. For us. Consider it my final gift to you. 


End file.
